My Beloved

Countless people in this world have loved
Who says their sentiments were not true?
But they had not the means to advertise their love
Because they were, like you and I, impoverished

My beloved they too would have loved
Whose skill has blessed it with form and beauty
Memorials to their love remain unnamed, unmarked
Ne’er a soul did light a lamp on them

This garden, the bank of Yamuna, palaces
These exquisite walls, these domes, these arches
An emperor, shored up by his wealth
Has made a mockery of our poor people’s love

My beloved, we shall meet some other place